


Juxtapositional Affection

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (But it does not occur in fic), Alcohol, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Sticky Interface, Secret Solenoid, Transformers: Lost Light 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 07:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: Secret Solenoid for Libby! For the prompt: "IDW: Rodimus/Thunderclash. Prompt is Roddy finally getting some love and appreciation because LL 25 made me sad."----------------------“I don’t think that’s possible.”“What? That I could manage to under and oversell myself? Because I assure you it’s very possible.”“I don’t think it’s possible to oversell yourself, Rodimus. You’re incredible.”





	Juxtapositional Affection

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year, y'all!! Starting the year off with a secret solenoid gift for Libby!
> 
> I hope you like it, Libby!
> 
> (in case it's not clear, this happens in the present day timeline aka sadsville, but before the time jump to the funeral.)

“May I join you?”

Rodimus’s helm shot up from where it had dipped while lost in his thoughts, vision blurry for a second before his optics found focus. He already knew who he was looking at even before they had though. To say that Thunderclash’s color choices were distinctive was, by Rodimus’s estimate, an understatement.

Suited his name at least.

Rodimus snorted, amused by his own thought.

“Would be rude of me to say no at this point, wouldn’t it?” Rodimus said dismissively as he turned back to his untouched drink on the bar.

Thunderclash didn’t jump at the opening. He didn’t move much at all in fact, still just standing there.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Can’t be worse company than drinking alone.”

“Nevertheless, it wasn’t my intension to–”

Rodimus pinched the bridge of his nose and ex-vented tiredly before cutting Thunderclash off, saying, “Just sit down. Or don’t. I really don’t care.”

A lie, judging by the small kernel of elation that bloomed in his chest when Thunderclash pulled the stool next to him out to sit on, but Thunderclash didn’t need to know that. Frankly,  _nobody_  needed to know how lonely Rodimus had become that he was happy to be with Thunderclash of all mechs.

Rodimus tipped his helm back and emptied his drink in one go to chase the thought away. It burned, but he didn’t mind so much by the time he was finished and slammed the cube down with a clatter.

Thunderclash was watching him with bright optics and a small little frown pulling at his full lips.

Instead of voicing concern though, he wisely asked a more general, “How have you been, Rodimus?”

Rodimus shrugged, fiddling with his now empty cube with one servo while he braced his cheek on the other.

“Oh, you know. Taking a break from divine quests to do some soul searching, and when  _that_  becomes too mind-numbingly depressing I take breaks by helping with Megatron’s trial, which is just a barrel of fun. So, you know. Fine. You?”

Rodimus had expected the frown to deepen; to receive an earful of overly sympathetic prattle; to have pity roll over him like the worst kind of flood.

But, instead, Thunderclash huffed with understanding.

“Just about the same, though without the trial. Instead I’ve used my soul-searching breaks to plan a way out of it altogether since I’m not sure I can take much more.”

Rodimus blinked before lifting his helm off his servo, asking, “A plan? You find another map in another Matrix or something?”

It was a joke, but Rodimus knew he sounded more hopeful than he had intended.

But Thunderclash shook his helm.

“No, nothing so divine as that. Just a ship and contacts who would be able to connect me with jobs that need doing.”

Rodimus put the cube down and turned on his stool to face Thunderclash. His knees brushed against the other mech’s thigh, but Rodimus paid it little mind as he said, “Wait, wait, wait. You’re planning on become some sort of spacefaring errand boy?”

Thunderclash actually looked a bit abashed as he confirmed, “I wouldn’t put it that way, but I suppose so. At least until something more substantial comes along.” It was only when Thunderclash lifted his cube to his lips, no doubt looking for a chance to better gather his thoughts, that Rodimus happened to notice  _it_.

Thunderclash’s cube was already rather small – a cocktail of some sort – but in Thunderclash’s large hand it was nearly comical.

Apparently comical enough that Rodimus caught himself snickering tipsily. When Thunderclash looked back at him, frowning, Rodimus realized how it must have come across, and stammered, “No, that’s not – it’s not the errand boy thing. It’s your servos and how small the cube looks in ‘em. It just struck me as funny, and ho boy, the timing of noticing that could not have been worse, huh?”

Thunderclash blinked at him again before, softly and warmly, chuckling as he lifted his servo.

“I suppose I do look rather silly, don’t I?”

“Very. Also, that cube looks way too small in your servo,” Rodimus quipped, and when that just got another startled chuckle, he added, “Also, I’m overcharged so you really can’t hold anything I’m saying against me anyway.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” Thunderclash replied, lifting the drink to sip from again.

Maybe it was the engex settling in, but Rodimus’s frame eased a little bit, his spark warming with the surprisingly pleasant company.

Yeah, it had to be the engex.

It definitely wasn’t the very idea that maybe he and Thunderclash had something in common.

“So. Spacefaring errand boy. You think that gig is gonna be enough to keep your mind off the horror that is soul searching?” Rodimus asked.

Thunderclash didn’t reply right away. He tilted his helm a bit as he put his cube down, the lines of his face straightening as he gave it serious thought.

And alright. Yes. He was handsome.

“I don’t know for certain that it will be,” Thunderclash admitted as he peered down at his drink, “but, for as painful as it can be, the soul searching did reveal some things.”

“Yeah? What did that particular torture session manage to pull out?”

Thunderclash’s lips curled just enough to be considered a smile, though to call it a happy expression was a stretch. “I realized that yes, certainly, I would prefer to have a more important goal than simply running errands. I feel more at ease when I know my task is meaningful and true. But more than that, I think…” Thunderclash trailed off for a moment, optics glancing at Rodimus briefly before returning to his cube, the smile slipping away. “I think that’s all that those things gave me. If I’m following Primus, or the Autobot cause, or moral obligation, there is reassurance that I’m doing good. There’s no room for my own doubts.”

Rodimus swore his spark was choking him.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I suspect that the grandiosity of the goals has never been truly why I enjoyed my quests. Rather, the journey and the ones I shared it with – that, above anything else, is truly what I loved.”

There was silence then – well, as silent as a half-filled bar could be considering the din of conversation and laughter that drifted around them. But none of it could truly penetrate the tension that hung between them.

And then Thunderclash huffed an ex-vent, apologetic as he said, “I hadn’t meant to get so serious.”

“No, no, that’s–” Rodimus closed his mouth, swallowed, and then reached up to rub the back of his neck as he said, “I get it. I—yeah. I get it. I  _really_ get it.”

Thunderclash finally looked up, their optics meeting, and—

And he smiled.

“I had hoped you might understand.”

And Rodimus laughed, short and genuine, shaking his helm as he spun in his seat back towards the bar.

“What?”

Rodimus looked back at Thunderclash sidelong as he lifted his servo, waving down the bartender. If his night was going to involve spiraling down a drain of commiseration with  _Thunderclash_ about getting planet bound while simultaneously trying to ignore how Thunderclash was actually relatable and consequently suddenly so much more  _attractive,_  then he was going to need another drink. “What ‘what’?”

“What do you find so funny about that?”

“I told you. I’m overcharged. Can’t be held accountable for what I say  _or_  any inappropriate laughing.”

“I can still ask why though, can’t I?”

Rodimus shrugged as his attention was halved between Thunderclash and the bartender down the line. “Another of the same,” he asked, and the bartender nodded in understanding. But then their optics drifted to Rodimus’s drinking partner, going wide and bright, and the bartender scrambled for the drink wall.

“You can, I guess,” Rodimus finally said as he turned back to Thunderclash. “Maybe I find the idea that a big fancy hero like you would want to relate with somebody like me to be funny.”

The space between Thunderclash’s optics furrowed as he frowned.

“What?”

Rodimus gestured with a thumb towards the bartender over his shoulder. “Take stuff like that. I’ve been here all night, no biggie, but right now? I can promise you that bartender is coming back with a free drink and it’s for you because one look and they’re swooning.”

Rodimus wasn’t sure exactly what he had thought Thunderclash’s response to that would be. But flustered hadn’t been it.

“No.  _No._  That’s not true–”

Rodimus’s cube hit the bar along with a little cube just like the one Thunderclash already held in his servo, served with a wide, spellbound smile.

Rodimus smirked in victory as Thunderclash looked between him and the bartender, thanking them before forcing shanix into their servo for the drink. He looked, of all things, slightly miserable. When finally the bartender was gone, Thunderclash frowned.

“Fine. I’ll admit there is a…” Thunderclash paused as he seemed to consider his words before finally saying, “An unwarranted hero worship that follows me around. But I think you sell yourself far too short, Rodimus.”

“Only when I’m not overselling myself,” Rodimus replied before sipping at his drink.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“What? That I could manage to under  _and_ oversell myself? Because I assure you it’s very possible.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to oversell yourself, Rodimus. You’re incredible.”

Rodimus nearly choked on his own oral lubricant. Thunderclash had sounded so genuine, and now looking at him, Thunderclash  _looked_ at him  _so_ genuinely.

Rodimus blinked, aware that his face was showcasing his surprise for the whole room to see.

“You’re serious.”

“Very.”

“I swear I’m not fishing for compliments, I just really need you to explain yourself. Immediately.”

Where Thunderclash had looked so torn about being doted upon, now he lit up like a new born star, optics bright and back straightening.

“Rodimus, you’re a  _Prime_. You are literally so pure of spark that the Matrix accepted you wholly to make you a  _Prime_. That alone should be proof enough that you’re an incredible mech.”

“That’s—that’s so not how it works. And besides, you’ve had the Matrix too.”

“As a carrier and a carrier alone,” Thunderclash was quick to argue, servo lifting to his chest. “It was certainly an honor to be entrusted with protecting such a holy relic, but I was a vessel for the Matrix and nothing more. I never communed with Primus like you have.”

Rodimus shifted on his stool, spark warming where it squirmed in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was from remembering how wonderfulit had been communing with the Matrix, or if it was the sheer reverence with which Thunderclash looked at him.

“You could have if you’d wanted.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” Thunderclash said with a casual shake of his helm, sounding almost amused, as if Rodimus had made a joke.

Rodimus’s jaw dropped as he stared at Thunderclash’s face, realizing aloud, “Holy frag. This whole humble shtick of yours is actually real.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“What you are is neurotic and honestly? It’s kind of a relief,” Rodimus said, laughing in disbelief and shaking his head. Before Thunderclash could disagree though, Rodimus plowed ahead, saying, “But alright, fine, I’ll give you your Prime worship moment. That’s an easy pull though, so you’re gonna have to dig deeper than that if you want to convince me.”

“You say that like it’s a challenge,” Thunderclash replied, smiling warmly, sweetly,  _adoringly_. He lifted one of his big servos, lifting a finger with each point as he started, “You’re endlessly brave, charismatic enough that your mere presence crushes personality ticks, strong enough to make hard decisions others would wilt under, determined and driven as hell–”

“Ok, ok, that’s enough–”

“—You’re a talented orator with so much earnestness to your speeches that you move mechs to do the impossible, you’re absolutely stunning to behold, your ability to withstand such high temperatures makes me very suspicious you must be an outlier of some sort–”

“Enough!” Rodimus insisted, shoving at Thunderclash’s shoulder even as he laughed, less from humor and more from the bubbling heat suffusing his frame from his spark outward, flattered and appreciated and flustered in turn. He was pretty sure if he let Thunderclash get any further, he would burst into flames right there in the middle of the bar. “You’re so embarrassing. And—did you just say that I’m hot?”

Thunderclash blinked, mouth closing and opening again, before he started, “I just pointed out that you’re able to withstand hot temperatures–”

“Before that.”

“You’re a talented orator–”

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting out of this one,” Rodimus insisted, grinning as he leaned sideways and elbowed Thunderclash. “Come on, let me savor it. It’s not every day  _The_ Thunderclash says you’re easy on the optics.”

Thunderclash’s gaze strayed from Rodimus’s face to where his servos fiddled with the small cube in their grasp.

“ _Very_ easy on the optics,” he finally confirmed as he glanced back at Rodimus again briefly. And Rodimus swore there was a small smile curling at the corner of Thunderclash’s lips.

It was a  _very_  cute smile.

Rodimus felt something flutter within him and the heat of his frame started to creep up his cheeks.

“Why, Captain Thunderclash, did you come over here with the intension of taking me home with you?” Rodimus asked, voice full of teasing demureness.

Thunderclash’s optics went wide, flaring as his servos clenched tight, completely encasing the cube within them as every inch of his frame screamed backtracking.

“No, that was not my intention.”

“Really? Because you look pretty nervous there, buddy,” Rodimus pushed, leaning closer so his shoulder pressed to Thunderclash’s arm, his knee grazing Thunderclash’s thigh. His optics were fully focused on his drinking partner now, intent on finding the actual answer to his question.

Thunderclash swallowed heavily before saying, “My personal affections, be they as they may, were not the reason I came here tonight.”

Rodimus stilled, his processor stalling on what was, essentially, an admittance wrapped up in a mystery.

And really, what did it say about him that Rodimus chose to follow the mystery instead of trying to come to terms with what Thunderclash’s ‘affections’ might entail?

“Then why didyou?”

That actually made Thunderclash look even more nervous. After a moment of returning Rodimus’s gaze, he lifted the half-drunk cube in his servos and downed it in one large swallow. The cube was placed down much more gently than Rodimus’s had been, and then the second waiting cube was lifted and downed in two gulps.

Rodimus realized his optics must have gone wide and his jaw dropped from surprise.

Thunderclash’s optics were blazing with either engex or determination as he turned to face Rodimus fully.

“I want to ask you to join my ship.”

Rodimus blinked and his mouth moved soundlessly until he managed a weak, “What?”

“As my co-captain,” Thunderclash continued, his expression torn between hope and fear. “Whatever issues I may have had with who shared that position with you previously aside, it seems like a system I would like to try myself, and I would be honored if you joined me.”

“That’s…” Rodimus began before just as quickly he trailed off, not sure where to even begin. His processor whirled madly to understand while his spark throbbed in his chest hard enough it nearly hurt.

It seemed impossible.

It  _had_ to be impossible.

“That’s nice,” Rodimus started, forcing casual amusement into his tone as he tore his optics from Thunderclash’s to look at his drink, “But if you had wanted to frag, you really didn’t have to come up with this whole charade. The compliments were plenty enough to convince me.”

Thunderclash didn’t respond right away and Rodimus didn’t dare look at him. Every second that passed further cemented for Rodimus that that’s all this had been, an elaborate come on, nothing more–

“I do have feelings for you, Rodimus. To try to say otherwise would be a lie and that’s the last thing I intend to–”

Rodimus released his drink so he could drop his face into his servos, ex-venting exasperatedly as he interrupted, “Please don’t say it like that. You can just say you want to frag. Interface. Whatever.”

“But that’s not true,” Thunderclash insisted. “There is more to it than mere physical attraction.”

“Great. You wanna frag with feelings. And you know what?” Rodimus straightened up again, pinning Thunderclash with a pointed look, “Fine. Drop all this slag about ships and errands and being fragging  _co-captains._ Just admit you’re picking me up and I’m all yours for the night. Deal?”

It didn’t work though.

If anything, Thunderclash’s frown deepened, his optics  _sad_ and  _frustrated_ and  _determined._

“I’m not fragging you tonight, Rodimus.”

Rodimus hated how the stern tone mixed with hearing Thunderclash curse actually had the very unintended effect of warming Rodimus’s systems. He really wouldn’t have minded at that point if they did frag. Found some dark corner and just felt  _something_.

“You could. I’m saying yes.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Yeah, but what you say you’re asking is  _insane_. And I know I called you neurotic earlier, but this is too much, even for you.”

Thunderclash’s mouth was a tight line, his gaze intense and calculating.

When he pushed his stool back and offered his servo, Rodimus assumed he had won, until Thunderclash said, “Come with me to the ship. See it for yourself.”

Rodimus looked down at the offered servo, so large that he realized his would probably look just as silly in it as the cube had.

It would look out of place.

But the large servo was warm and welcoming under Rodimus’s palm.

* * *

Thunderclash had insisted they walk instead of drive, citing their inebriation, and no amount of arguing would get him to shift into his alt mode. So finally Rodimus had settled for walking next to him.

It was late, but an early late – any mechs who didn’t have plans to be out for the nightwould be at home already, and any mech who  _did_ plan to be out wouldn’t be leaving to go home for hours yet. Besides the occasional group moving from one bar to another, Rodimus and Thunderclash were alone as they made their way across the neighborhoods.

And once Rodimus stopped questioning Thunderclash’s intentions, conversation became pleasant again. They talked about their shared acquaintances and friends, about travelling in space and the various shenanigans they had each gotten up to in those good old days, about how different Cybertron was, how difficult it was to find a place in it all.

Rodimus had almost been surprised when an actual ship appeared in front of them.

“It doesn’t have a name yet,” Thunderclash said as he palmed a panel beside the entrance. “I tend to overthink things like that and get wordy, so I hope you’ll do the honors.”

Rodimus snorted, still a bit tipsy as he looked up at the ship.

“So we’re really still acting like I’m going to be in there any longer than it takes to frag my processor out?”

Thunderclash sighed but didn’t bother to comment as he stepped back to gesture Rodimus go inside.

It was no Lost Light – or Vis Vitalis for that matter – but the ship was in, well, shipshape. New as far as Rodimus could see. If it wasn’t, it had been repaired and cleaned so thoroughly that it might as well have been. Approximately half the size of the Lost Light but it didn’t feel at all claustrophobic.

It was nice.

It looked like opportunity.

“Tell me you didn’t pay money for this old junker,” Rodimus teased despite himself. Even if Thunderclash couldn’t see through his sarcasm by now, the way that Rodimus looked around with wide optics as he let his digit tips trail along the wall no doubt would have.

Thunderclash was beaming from cheek to cheek when Rodimus happened to look back at him.

“It’s nice to be back on a ship again, isn’t it?”

“The only way it could be better is if you’d had the artificial gravity activated,” Rodimus admitted as he made his own way down the hallway, directionless but still quite sure he could find the bridge with quick, long strides. Every fiber of his being insisted he had to find the bridge immediately. “I don’t care how many smartaft scientists try to tell me it’s impossible to feel a difference. You  _so_ can.”

“It feels less… restrictive.”

Rodimus whipped around in the middle of the hallway, unperturbed when Thunderclash nearly walked into him, too busy grinning as he pointed up at Thunderclash.

“Yes! That’s it exactly! Primus, it’s like you’re in my fragging head,” Rodimus said before laughing and spinning on his heels again. “While you’re in there, mind telling me where the damn bridge is? I  _have_ to see that bridge.”

“You’re heading the right way. Just turn left at the fork,” Thunderclash explained as his heavy pedesteps thudded behind Rodimus again. He sounded nearly as excited as Rodimus did.

And then, finally, there it was.

Clean, spotless even, with consoles aplenty and cushioned chairs at each. Three large dark panes of glass dominated the entirety of the front half of the room, darkened by the shutters drawn across them while the ship was docked. But out in space—

Rodimus hadn’t realized he was moving until he was stood at the main console, digits light against the edges, resting where they would have were this his Lost Light. But his optics were wholly enchanted by the shuttered windows.

Because out in space those very windows would be filled with hundreds upon thousands upon millions of stars and planets and nebulae and galaxies, all glittering with their brilliant light, setting the the vast vacuum of space ablaze with their siren call.

And his spark felt full to bursting with the desperate longing to answer them.

“Do you like it?”

Rodimus managed to tear his gaze away to glance over his shoulder. Thunderclash stood to the side and just behind him, servos tucked behind the small of his back, watching him with optics bright with anticipation.

And Rodimus’s could feel his intake constrict with emotion.

“It’s beautiful.”

Thunderclash’s face lit up bright enough it could have been a glittering star all its own.

“It could be yours.  _Ours_.”

And Rodimus swore his spark was going supernova.

“Holy frag. You’re actually serious.”

Thunderclash stepped up to his side and reached out his palm to the console. Immediately the computer whirred to life and the screen blinked on, welcoming Captain Thunderclash before starting to run diagnostics and spit out reports on the ship’s current status.

Not once did Thunderclash look away from Rodimus.

“I’ve already altered the program to accept a second captain. I’ll register you in the computer right now if that’s what you wish.”

Rodimus looked down at the console and Thunderclash’s large servo still pressed against it. His would look so small in comparison, but the console would accept him nonetheless. The ship would accept him.

His digits twitched where they just skimmed the edges.

“Why?” Rodimus finally asked, doubt and fear sparking into nameless frustration as he turned back to Thunderclash. “This ship is  _yours_. Mechs will trip over themselves to join  _Thunderclash’s_  crew. In no time at all you could be off this planet and out  _there–_ ” Rodimus gestured out towards the windows, out at the view they would have when the ship was where it belonged, “—and it would be all yours. The ship and the crew and the journey,  _all yours_. Why would you want to share that with a disaster like  _me_? Why would you want to tell anyone you share a ship with  _Rodimus Prime_?”

But Thunderclash didn’t crumple this time. Yes, there was sorrow that marred the curve of his lips, but his optics were stern and his servo fisted against the screen.

“Because you’re incredible, Rodimus,” Thunderclash insisted, as if there was no room for argument.

And Rodimus didn’t know what else to do but lash out, snapping, “Oh, shut up,” because he couldn’t have this, didn’t deserve this. “You don’t know anything about me.”

When Rodimus tried to move his servos away from the console, to storm out, to leave this beautiful ship in Thunderclash’s big sure servos, one of those very servos darted from its place on the console to grasp his wrist.

“I know that life has been cruel to you,” Thunderclash blurted out. There was a simmering anger behind his words, but it wasn’t at Rodimus, not with the sad slant as of his features. It wouldn’t have taken much to slip from his grasp. “I can’t even begin to understand what it’s like to be you, Rodimus. But I can look at the facts, follow the sequence of events in your life, and see that you’ve been dealt a harsh life with impossible choices. No one would blame a mech for being crushed under the weight of any one of the burdens given to you, and yet  you’ve endured them all and you’re still here, and you’re still full of a youthfulness and drive that the rest of us have long lost, and that’s incredible.  _You’re_ incredible.”

Rodimus realized he should do something. Talk, or move, or  _something_. But he was frozen to the spot, processor and spark stalling.

Thunderclash’s servo was so warm where it carefully cradled his wrist, and it was the only anchor Rodimus could find to keep him in the moment.

“How – how do you know?” When Thunderclash just made a soft inquiring noise, Rodimus managed to clarify, “My life. How would you know it was—was–?”

“I’ve admired you for quite a while, Rodimus,” Thunderclash interrupted, his servo squeezing in what might have been comfort. If Rodimus didn’t know better, he’d say that Thunderclash almost looked a little embarrassed. “I’ve—well. I guess you could say I’ve been a—an admirer since I first heard about you during the war.”

Rodimus stared at him.

And then, from somewhere deep down, Rodimus burst into laughter.

“Wait, you’re a  _fan_? Are you fragging kidding me?” Rodimus asked, shaking his helm in disbelief.

And Thunderclash did continue to look more bashful – and that alone was  _insane_ , that Thunderclash was bashful about  _him_ – but still he confirmed, “That would be a way to put it, I suppose.”

“You’re crazy. This is  _crazy_. You’re  _Thunderclash_. People keep signed and framed photos of you! The Big War Hero Thunderclash cannot, in any conceivable universe or timeline, be a fan of  _me_. And I’m kind of an expert since I’ve been to a few so you can take my word on that.”

Thunderclash didn’t look the least bit convinced. In fact, he simply  _shrugged_.

“I doubt that very much since it was only timing and circumstance that gave me my fame,” Thunderclash said, as if it were nothing. As if he wasn’t dismissing all the fanfare and hero worship that surrounded him as nothing but  _luck_. “I had a long time to work through the mistakes of youth before the war was even on the horizon, and then my failures in war were accommodated because they were surrounded by similar ones and thus lost in most mechs’ memories. I never had the sort of impossible decisions handed to me that you had, and so early in your life too.”

Emotion was back in Rodimus’s intake with a vengeance, threatening to choke him.

“You’re crazy.”

And Thunderclash simply smiled.

“I have little doubt that in different circumstance you could have easily surpassed my fame by megamiles. And in my opinion, you should have.  _You_  deserve it, not me.”

Thunderclash’s servo had relaxed enough around Rodimus’s wrist that the heel of his palm covered the back of Rodimus’s and his smallest digit brushed the heel of Rodimus’s palm. It was nothing for Rodimus to close his digits around that digit like a lifeline.

“I’ve done awful things.”

“We all have, Rodimus.”

“No, not just – not just fighting and killing. I mean—Nyon—”

Thunderclash’s grip tightened, squeezing comfortingly.

“An impossible decision with no right answer. Anyone who tries to guess what they might have done is full of slag.”

Rodimus was pretty sure his choked laugh sounded a little too much like a sob as he said, “Wow, first frag, now slag? Who knew The Greatest Autobot had such a filthy mouth.”

Thunderclash’s chest was warm where Rodimus’s forehelm thudded against it and it didn’t move away which was a good sign. The way Thunderclash’s servo slowly and hesitantly moved from Rodimus’s wrist to his elbow was even better.

“So. You really don’t lie, huh?”

“I don’t make it a habit, no.”

“So you really want me to co-captain this ship with you.”

“I do.”

“And it’s not just because you’re disgustingly in love with me.”

Thunderclash’s spark throbbed hard enough for Rodimus to feel echoing through his chest and it brought a wobbly smile to his face.

“Gross. I can’t believe you’re in love with me. That’s so embarrassing.”

“I didn’t say that was true!”

“You give good hugs, Thunderclash?”

There was a beat, silence save for the softest whisper of a buzz from the ship computer.

Then Rodimus was pulled in close to Thunderclash by powerful arms and those huge servos wrapped around his back and his shoulder. Rodimus was tucked in to the angles and planes of Thunderclash’s frame, held tightly and warmly, and that hold only tightened when Rodimus slipped his own arms around Thunderclash to grasp at his back.

Thunderclash didn’t say a word about the slight tremors that raced through Rodimus as, slowly but surely, the emotions that had a vice grip around his spark melted away.

And even then, Rodimus lingered, basking in the gladly given affection.

“So?” Thunderclash murmured, gentle even as his voice hinted at teasing. “Your verdict?”

Rodimus shifted the barest amount possible to allow him to look up at Thunderclash. The larger mech’s back was bent so he was curved the slightest bit over Rodimus.

“Not bad. I’m sure you’ll get it with some more practice.”

Thunderclash’s chest rumbled when he chuckled and Rodimus decided he really liked that.

“Now, I’m not a vain mech, but I know this is one area where I am actually rather talented, so I think you may be lying,” Thunderclash said.

Rodimus snorted in turn, but he relented, “Fine, fine, you win.”

And the resulting gorgeous slant of Thunderclash’s mouth when it was Rodimus he was smiling at was breathtaking.

It made him want to kiss Thunderclash stupid.

So Rodimus pushed up onto the tips of his pedes and did just that.

Thunderclash’s ventilations came to a sputtering stop. When Rodimus pulled back, Thunderclash’s optics were still wide open and overbright, his mouth slightly agape.

“I accept,” Rodimus said, and Thunderclash blinked stupidly at him.

“Accept?”

“The ship. Co-captaining. Keep up, won’t you?” Rodimus teased as he stepped back and out of the cradle of Thunderclash’s arms. “As far as that crush of yours goes, you still got some work ahead of you, buddy. I’m not an easy prize to win.”

Thunderclash still looked shell-shocked as he managed, “No, I… I suppose not.”

Since the console was still logged in on Thunderclash’s account, it was easy for Rodimus to tap at the screen to bring up the crew list. As promised, there was a second, empty slot for Captain, so Rodimus typed in his own name and pressed his servo to the screen.

And just like that, the ship accepted him and hummed nearly inaudibly as it began to build his account.

“So,” Thunderclash started, and Rodimus turned back to him to find that at least some of the mech’s senses had come back to him. In fact, there was the slightest of curls to his dumb beautiful mouth as he continued, “No fragging tonight?”

Rodimus laughed hard enough that his vents wheezed.

“Primus, Thunderclash, give it a break and stop hounding me for my spike for a second, would you?!” Rodimus said with what had to be the dumbest grin on his face as he grabbed Thunderclash by the servo and tugged him back towards the door leaving the bridge. “That said though, I  _do_  need to see those captain quarters of yours. If I’m moving in, I have to know ahead of time if I’m commandeering them or if we’re gonna have to remodel a couple other rooms to make my captain suite.”

“Oh?” Thunderclash asked, easily falling into step behind Rodimus.

And maybe Rodimus’s servo  _was_  small in Thunderclash’s, but it still fit just perfectly.


End file.
